


Flight

by karakael



Category: GaoGaiGar
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 21:50:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5180978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karakael/pseuds/karakael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When J Eiji runs into a pink-haired prostitute and gives her a ride home, the last thing he expects is to be pulled into a massive conspiracy involving runners of the elicit drug "Z-Crystal". But he can't ignore the girl, nor the fact that his own company seems to be caught up in the mess. And it turns out that a bit of danger was exactly what the doctor ordered for this pilot. Assuming he lives long enough to find out what's going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic touches on some pretty tough subjects, and if I've overstepped my bounds, please tell me. I know very little of PTSD or drug use, but I hope I've communicated the subject matter respectfully. This was supposed to read like a cop thriller, but as always things got a bit out of hand.

J Eiji hated bars. 

Well, to be more specific he hated this kind of bar, the kind where arrogant salary men came to out-drink each other after long days at the office. Surrounded by equal numbers of drunk pilots and call-girls giggling into their drinks, picking out the man who will take them home. Most of those pilots had wives, whether back in China or the States, and some of them had children about the same age as the girls fluttering between the tables. The thought of it turned his stomach.

He wasn’t there to get drunk or to pick up pretty prostitutes. Which begged the question why he was there at all, trapped in an upscale Tokyo bar rather than the hole-in-the-wall pubs he preferred. He could have been in a place where the bartenders had some class, rather than goading their patrons to buy more and more expensive liquor. He could be in a place with dark walls and counter-tops weathered to a sheen, rather than the bright scream of florescent lights and mirrored counter-tops that sent a pounding pain to his jet-lagged mind. Jazz or opera would play in the background and – though this was a stretch – he might even spend the evening quietly chatting up some attractive office boy or girl with no ulterior motives other than pleasant company willing to wait to see if something sparked.

Instead, he was bunched into the far corner of the booth, paired with the one unclaimed ‘hostess’, who seemed to be playing him off his co-pilot in an attempt to tease one of them into outbidding the other for her hand. He wasn’t interested in the game, but Hideo was falling for it fast. J wasn’t sure which was worse, the way Hideo drooled at the girl’s cleavage or the massive amount of makeup that only emphasized the girl’s criminally young age.

“So you’re pilots? _Real_ pilots?” She asked, eyes wide and lips pursed.

She took a sip of her drink and Hideo watched the way her lips wrapped the straw and sucked slowly.

“Of course. Have you ever ridden a plane, little girl?”

She shook her head, pink hair bouncing around her shoulders. She leaned closer, using her low-cut top to full effect. J tried to find somewhere else to look and settled for staring fixedly at the light and its silver fringe. 

“What’s it like? I’ve never ridden something that big!”

J grimaced. Hideo was using their sacred calling as a way to pathetically tease a prostitute. Could he fall any lower? The answer was ‘of course’ as the man went for the easy response.

“I could give you a ride on something better. How ‘bout tonight, little lady?”

She laughed and agreed, coyly nodding to a poster that lists prices of supposed beers. Of course, all the clients knew the real thing being sold and Hideo whistled happily at the number the girl pointed out. Thirty dollars for a bottle of rotgut or a call-girl’s fancy.

The sad part was that she would have been attractive with just a few more years and a pound less makeup. The body pressed between J and Hideo was slim but well-toned, with a hard athleticism that J has seen more on army recruits than prostitutes. If he looked away he could almost imagine her as being another base pilot, half-drunk and playing a long skit to get the guys chuckling. Occasionally, when the girl laughed, he almost heard a husky undertone to her voice and imagined it ringing free rather than constrained by coquettish giggles and half-consumed alcohol. 

“We’re just cargo pilots.” He said when it became too much. “Find someone better, kid.”

He could feel her pout, even though he couldn’t bear to look right at her. God, he really _did_ need to get laid if a half-pint girl in a low-cut top could get him fantasizing about a real woman.

Hideo sputtered and glared over his glasses at J. “Why you…”

“If I pay you double, can we leave right now?” 

Hideo’s mouth dropped open and that was almost worth the hundred dollars that J would have to pay for his own peace of mind. The girl agreed immediately, and J caught a flash of impotent rage on Hideo’s face, even as he tugged her away from the table and out into the pouring rain of the Shinjuku night. Anything to get her away from his lecherous partner.

“Gotta admit, big guy, you don’t seem the type.” She said as they stood beneath the awning, but he ignored her and hailed a cab. He handed her a fifty as the car pulled up, which she took without comment, but her coy expression changed to confusion when he made no move to follow her.

“Get yourself a decent meal and stay off the streets tonight.” was all he said before shutting the door on her shocked expression and turning away, knowing that she’d likely try to give the money back rather than thank him. He almost expected her to, but then he heard the cab woosh away, leaving him to begin the walk back home in the pouring rain. But, for the first time in months, he felt his heart lift. Perhaps it was a pointless gesture, a waste of money on a girl who would just be out on the streets again the next night, but damn if it didn’t make him feel good, just trying to fix something in the world. 

By the time he reached his flat he was drenched, but a smile pulled at his dour face and he collapsed into bed, if not happy, then at least not full of that yawning emptiness that so often overwhelmed him on the ground.

\----------------------------------- 

Renais Cardiff-Shishio sat stunned at her desk, staring at the fifty in front of her. Around her there was a buzz of activity, made-up girls and street-punks side-by-side the men in suits. The noise from the street filtered in over top it all, making her desk a tiny bubble of silence in a sea of chaos. Bass pounded from the bar next-door, making the pictures on the wall rattle with every thump. There was a quiet white room in the back, but only the boss was allowed in there, so she made do with the half a desk shoved into the corner. It was covered in makeup kits and the cheapest computer this part of Japan could offer. The drawers were locked for privacy’s sake – any pickpocket with half a minute could jimmy the doors open, but the rest of the girls made sure that no one stayed here that long.

Somewhere someone was sobbing. There was a man passed out on a bench, snoring off a binge. The music covered some of the arguments and the rapid-fire constant ring of the telephone calls but nothing could cover up the noise of the entire life of Shinjuku played out in miniature in that single room. 

She didn’t notice it. She’d learned to tune out the noise long ago, lest the pain and sorrow overwhelm her. But usually she would at least be observing it, watching for potential dangers and assessing the others that came to the rickety store-front that she called ‘home’.

A shadow fell over her table and she started, staring up at a huge bear of a man. He looked like a pimp, with his dark skin and well-toned muscles. His garish outfit only made it more obvious, as did his booming voice that would easily send any hooker into shivers of fear. Pickpockets and druggies cowered before him, and he could easily take on any gang-leader he wanted to.

Renais steeled herself and returned his gaze measure for measure.

“What are you doing back so early?” 

She shook her head mutely and pointed to the money.

“But no customer?” There was equal parts irritation and surprise in his voice beneath the rumbling volcano.

“No. He…he gave me the money for a hotel room out of the rain. And then he left.”

Hyuuma was silent for a moment and Renais waited for his response. There were so many ways he could make her life hell…

Then he laughed, a huge sound that echoed around the office and caused half the informants to freeze mid-sentence. “Damn. Sounds like a right Saint. But that’s no excuse. Back to the beat, rookie!”

Renais rolled her eyes and shoved the offending money into the doughnut-kitty. As if Hyuuma had any right to call her a rookie. 

She readjusted her Vice Crime costume and instinctively touched the badge hidden in her purse. It had been a long, long time since she’d been a civilian. No time start thinking like one now. 

Even if that green-haired pilot had been _just_ her type.

\-------------------------------- 

J saw the pink-haired hooker several times over the next four months. Lounging at corners, chatting with other call-girls, teasing potential clients at clubs and hostess-bars. Her hair changed color constantly, but her eyes never did. Red lipstick and cheap sakura perfume, low-cut tops and wide black eye-shadow, none of that covered it up completely, once you knew how to look. She held herself differently, as if she was fighting her way out of the gutter with the only tool she knew how, and her eyes held that same fierce determination, something that couldn’t be hidden no matter how many coats of makeup. No matter how many times she changed herself, he could still recognize her in an instant. 

Eventually he had to admit to himself that he was looking for her. Maybe it started out as little more than a game; find the one bearable thing in the sea of idiots. It was worth it for the way her eyes sparked when she saw him, though whether with anger or amusement was hard to tell.

She never approached him again, after that first night, staying on the other side of the bars and avoiding his cohort of pilots completely. And he never followed her, never attempted to start up a conversation or, evil thought that it was, indicate that he might be interested in her services. 

That changed, one night, when he found himself sitting across from one of her friends during his coworker’s weekly binges. The two women were often seen together, pink-haired girl watching over the other call-girls with a feral, protective glare, especially when ‘Butterfly’ was concerned.

The girl in question was absolutely stunning, and he wasn’t sure how much his inebriated colleagues realized it. Dark skin, petite frame, wide, soulful eyes hidden behind thick-rim glasses…it was no surprise that even Hideo asked _“whatcha doing in this life, sweet-heart?”_ Demurely the girl glanced down, but not before J caught her eyes flicker to her arm and the needle scars. Whatever she was taking, it made her more beautiful, not less. Of course Hideo and the rest didn’t seem to notice, instead plying her and her friends with drinks while she just swirled the straw in her water and made a noncommittal responses between looking to a corner where the proprietor of the club sat.

She wasn’t a very good prostitute, J finally decided, halfway through his whiskey and watching his colleagues slowly collapse into debauchery. The rest of the girls were less graceful in their movements but far, far more comfortable in their skin and roles, flirting with the pilots and taking every veiled insult and lecherous fumbling in-stride. The new girl, however, tried and failed to stay aloof from it, a habit which made her look arrogant and refined…but in reality was likely covering up a shy, frightened nature which served her poorly as the rest of the pilots turned their attention to more receptive targets, leaving her sitting uncomfortably poised on the edge of the booth and becoming more and more fearful of her pimp.

“Butterfly, isn’t it?” He finally asked, just as the proprietor stood to begin his round. “Are you new?”

She shook her head, watching the pimp’s circuit.

He searched for something to say even as the silence threatened to descend again. “There is a girl I’ve seen you with. Pink hair, about 5’6”, and the most intense eyes…”

Finally a hint of emotion other than worry showed on her face. Curiosity entered her voice. “Yes?”

“…I was wondering what her name was.”

The call-girl looked confused. “Oh! Re- “ She paused, biting down on the name and substituting it for another “Lion. That’s her –ah- work name?”

“Oh.” He paused, considering the new information. “It fits her.”

Butterfly nodded. “It does.” Then she seemed to actually see him for the first time, and her eyes widened slightly.

“Are you – “ She paused again and glanced at the other people at the table. They were all engrossed in their own conversations, so she leaned over and whispered, “Are you the man who didn’t go home with her?”

He flushed but nodded. Butterfly smiled cautiously.

“She mentioned you. No one has ever done something like that for her.”

He looked away, embarrassed. “Tch. Chivalry is that dead?”

Butterfly looked down, her hands on the table, sadness returning to her face. “Most would consider us unworthy of that kind of respect, sir.”

“Then perhaps you need it the most.”

She glanced up, surprised. “Need? Maybe. Deserve…no.” Her hands tightened, freezing the slight tremors that had begun. 

His disagreeing silence was the best answer he could give, but she seemed to appreciate that he didn’t argue with her. Instead he took another sip of his whiskey and looked to see if “Lion” had shown up. Strange how he was looking forward to seeing her, even if that meant the girl was out on the streets and all that entailed.

Butterfly seemed to notice. “…you’re looking for her.”

He didn’t try to deny it.

“You won’t buy her, will you?” There was something in her voice, an added layer of subtext he couldn’t quite follow.

“No. I don’t…I didn’t come here for that.”

“Then why – “

But they were interrupted by the proprietor, who lay his beefy hand on Butterfly’s shoulder and leaned over the table.

“Everything according to your tastes, gentlemen?””

The other pilots all nodded, but J had caught the man’s eye. J wasn’t a small man; in fact he was tall enough to occasionally struggle to fit in small cockpits; but the pimp was standing and using all of his considerable bulk to attempt to intimidate him.

“Is this girl wasting your time, sir?”

J glanced at Butterfly’s expression, equal parts fear and resignation, and shook his head.

“Not your type, perhaps? Would you rather a host, than a hostess?”

Again he shook his head and stomped on his impulse to hit the man for the insult both to Butterfly and himself. Just because he could take the man hardly meant he should, and it would only cause more trouble for the call-girl.

“I simply was not planning on – “

“Then perhaps some of the other shops would have something more to your fancy?” The man interrupted, a sharp smile on his face.

The undertone was clear. Leave, if you don’t plan on buying. And while J would have preferred to talk with the girl longer, the atmosphere around him was turning hostile. Grimacing, he paid his tab and left his coworkers behind, but not before Hideo made some joke at his expense resulting in the whole table bursting into laughter.

The last thing he saw of the purple-haired girl was her apologetic smile and a quickly whispered suggestion.

“Don’t buy the Lion.”

\--------------------------------------- 

Papillion Noir was an informant, but Renais thought of her more as a friend, even if it was against protocol. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement; Renais could protect Papillion when her pimp went after her, and Papillion’s friendship gave her added cover amongst the patrons of the underworld. Privately, Renais thought that she would have preferred to meet Papillion under different circumstances, ones where friendship could have come first over business. But neither of them could put their jobs behind them, a reality that weighed more heavily on Papillion than Renais.

She bought the younger woman bagels every other day and they shared them in a tiny little park hidden in a back-lot before going to their various shifts. Usually they talked underworld gossip, but sometimes it was nice to have something normal to talk about, ignoring the rigors of the ugly world they lived in and chatting like the school girls neither was.

But today Papillion was buzzing with other news.

“I saw him.” 

“Who?” Renais never smoked around Papillion; it would be cruel; but she still liked fiddling with her lighter in between taking bites of sweet cinnamon bagel. 

“That pilot who escaped you.”

“Oh. Him.”

Renais had been trying not to think of him, which was easier said than done when the man stood out in every crowd. He was a head taller than the Japanese and Chinese businessmen that frequented the strip she patrolled, and the greenish tint to his hair only made him stand out more. She only saw him once a month or so, but the shock of pleasurable recognition was damn hard to hide each time he appeared in view. It bothered her, especially given that there was no way he could be as kind as their one interaction indicated.

“He was asking after you.”

She coughed on her coffee. “ _What_?!”

“He had noticed me talking to you a few weeks ago, and asked if I knew your name.”

The police-woman instinct kicked in. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

Papillion shook her head. “Of course not. I gave him your ‘work’ name.”

She sighed in relief. “Good.”

“He would have asked more if Kei hadn’t run him off.”

“Damn.” Being recognized by potential Johns was dangerous to her cover.

“I think he likes you.”

“That’s even worse! No offense, but I’m not interested in a man who frequents this place.”

Papillion cocked her head. “Kei ran him off because he wouldn’t buy me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him take another girl – or boy – home either. If I were to guess, he’s being dragged along by his co-workers.”

“Maybe. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s still here, ogling the girls and…”

“And taking them home in the rain for nothing?” Papillion prompted, picking apart her bagel carefully. Of course Renais would chide her if she noticed she wasn’t eating.

“So maybe he’s a serial killer or something.” Idly Renais pulled the bagel from Papillion’s hands and set it aside, for once more interested in a potential blow to her cover than lecturing her friend on her eating habits. 

“I don’t think so. He’s not crazy…but he doesn’t seem like one of those religious types either.”

The police woman chuckled. “True. Remember – gods what was his name? – that American pastor I arrested for going after the young boys.”

Papillion nodded. “Edwards, I think.”

“Came to all the girls telling them how sorry he was…”

Another nod. “And in the end he was worse than all of them.”

“Yeah.” Renais was silent for a moment, remembering the scandal that had followed. The man’s wife had wept in court and accused her of rigging the evidence. The DA was a member of the pastor’s church and had gotten the man acquitted easily… the first time. But by the third time she picked him up, his reputation was in tatters. It had been bad business by the end.

“I don’t think J is like that, though.” Papillion paused, considering. “He’s more like you.”

“J? That’s his name?”

Papillion smiled as if her suspicions were confirmed, and before she could protest, proceeded to tell Renais everything she knew about the tall pilot with a conscience. 

\----------------------- 

The girl with the pink hair seemed only to work in one specific district of Shinjuku. None of the other pilots seemed to care when J started suggesting they keep their bi-weekly outings to that one particular street. Only Hideo noticed at all, but that did little to help their souring relationship. The others just saw it as the aloof captain finally showing some humanity and, since it didn’t matter to them, they easily shifted their routine and then proceeded to attempt to drink J under the table while he looked for the Lion-girl, neither party with any success. 

Hideo was less understanding. His snide comments while they were flying back to Japan forced J to bite his tongue, ruining the mood of an otherwise beautiful flight. 

Time and again he had been tempted to request a new partner. Hideo was a lecherous old man who had taken an immediate dislike to J the instant he stepped onto “his” plane. As far as J could tell, he spent most of his time away from home drunk or planning on drinking, leaving his innocent young wife to care for their two small children. J had discovered quickly that the best way to deal with the man was remain silent as much as possible. A damned hard rule to follow when J was forced to act as pilot before he had even been approved because the man had shown up to work drunk on J’s second day on the job. A harder prospect still when Hideo was quick to give unwanted opinions on topics ranging from religion to politics.

Most of the rest of the pilots were equally silent around him; due in large part to the fact that the man was the uncle of the current owner of their small freight company. He had been flying for years and might have once been a good pilot, before his personal habits had barred him from flying passenger air. Still, he could lean on Hideki whenever he wished, which had resulted in pilots who got on his bad side being consigned to night flights and odd schedules, if not fired outright for fabricated complaints.

There was nothing in the world that would make J like Hideo, but he had tried to stay under the man’s radar as much as possible. Being given the lead pilot position after only two months of work hadn’t improved Hideo’s view of him, however, no matter that J had said nothing about the number of times he had flown the plane alone while Hideo was drunk or dragged the man to work because a shipment needed to be delivered promptly. It was another pilot’s words that had prompted the promotion but Hideo still hadn’t forgiven him for it three years later. Still, J had thought he might have forgotten about the slight.

And then…

“I don’t see why we waste so much on the military. The U.S., China, hell, even Japan wastes billions of our money on what? Bothering around in Africa or the Middle East, when the money should be going to hard working people like us, not layabouts who can’t even get a decent job.” 

The other pilots shifted uncomfortably though a few nodded.

“What’s worse is the riffraff they call soldiers. In my day, only the best were considered capable of being pilots. Now we spend billions on their ‘safety’ rather than expecting them to actually learn how to fly. And they still crash planes, wasting more money than their miserable lives are worth and to do what, save some ghosts rather than protecting decent Japanese?”

The whiskey had already turned bitter in J’s mouth, ever since Hideo had started speaking. He stared at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the plaster, lest he start thinking about his co-pilot, an Arab man who was the best damn flyer he had ever met.

“They’re all lower-class trash anyways. Who cares if some Saudis or Yakuza brats die? Shouldn’t be allowed near decent people, much less a plane that the government spent hundreds of dollars on.”

“Trash, you say?”

Carefully, J set his glass down, the whiskey steady as a rock as his mind shook. Something in his tone caused the other pilots to shift away, but Hideo was so drunk he didn’t notice…or didn’t care.

“Yeah. Can’t even pass their exams to college, gutter-snipes all of them, yet they act like they’re better than us because only the government will take them. There’s hundreds more where they came from, so why waste money on bastards who can’t even fly straight?”

“I was a fighter pilot.”

The words are quiet, but the table stills around him.

Hideo looked appalled. “No wonder you’re a lazy ass, then. You’re just like all the rest, aren’t you? Is this your attempt to get a real job? Steal more money from _real_ people?”

He didn’t hit him. J was proud of that. If he had he would have lost the job and lost the argument. Civilian life wasn’t easy, especially with men like Hideo calling the shots. And maybe his coworkers thought him a coward for it, but Abed would have been proud, so he walked straighter as he stalked out of the bar and ran smack into the Lion. 

\-------------------------------------------------- 

Maybe that was when things changed. The girl took one look at him and her eyes went wide – recognizing something the men behind him hadn’t. J was frozen in anger, his eyes steel and the hand on the door loose. His coworkers, all pilots who had graduated from second rate flight schools and never seen a real bar-fight in their lives, probably thought he didn’t care. Nothing could be further from the truth.

The girl knew. She had probably seen pimps who look liked this take on whole gangs, or slighted Yakuza thugs rip enemies to shreds with that same cold anger in their eyes.

But instead of turning and walking away, letting him leave and run off his frustrations in the closest mimicry to freedom he had since leaving the air force, her own eyes hardened and she grasped his arm. 

“…J?”

 _She knows my name_ …the thought cut through the cold rage.

“Oh, look what the gutter-snipe brought in. This the whore you’ve fallen for?”

Something snapped inside of him and he turned fast, hand already raised. 

But the girl was somehow faster, slipping around him and laughing, as if she hadn’t seen his face at all, as if there hadn’t been a spark of recognition in her eyes. 

“Oh! I remember _you_.” Laugh light, body steel beneath the tight-fitting jumpsuit. “Would you like another chance at me, Mister?”

The anger suddenly drained away. J watched as the girl – god she looked more like a child than ever, as if she was _trying_ to convince a pedophile that she was a school-child – wrapped herself around one of Hideo’s beefy arms. The shift in emotions was so sudden, so complete, that J didn’t know what to feel at the…betrayal. That was what it felt like. How could he accept that? He had no right to her, would never allow himself to act the mixed-up feelings or admit that the knowledge that she knew his name had somehow put a crack in the wall he had built around himself since Abed’s death. She had to eat just like he did – of course she would take whoever she could get, and who was he to judge?

He turned away, but not before seeing Hideo’s triumphant sneer. The man would lord the ‘victory’ over him for months to come, and it would burn each time he did, but at least that meant he would forget to mention J’s service to his nephew. So there was some kindness in the world after all.

He didn’t notice the way the girl’s shoulders straightened or the code she typed in her cell phone with easy practice. He didn’t notice the gleam in her eyes when she glanced at Hideo, or the way that the glance that traveled back to him held equal parts the satisfaction of a job well done and sorrow that she had succeeded.

He simply focused on the route back home, running it with the speed and determination that his drill instructor would have been proud of seven years ago. He focused on the feeling of speed, the way his body ached from the exertion, and the rush of endorphin as he ran straight up the thirty flights of stairs before he reached his apartment. He would have to go on another run, later in the night when the streets were empty and he felt safe again, safe enough to run out his angers and frustrations, heart pounding, wishing he was flying once again.

\----------------------------- 

“So how old are you, little girl?” Hideo threw an arm over Renais’s shoulder, hand just seconds from going for a clumsy squeeze.

“Sixteen. Is that alright, mister? I _promise_ I won’t tell my parents~” Her hands itched for the handcuffs she kept in her purse, but there were a few very specific words she – and the wire she wore beneath her tight coat – needed to hear before she could make the man’s life just as hellish as she was planning.

Perhaps she should examine her motives for why she chose this John a bit more carefully, but damn if he wasn’t the kind of sleaze-ball creep she loved booking again and again until they couldn’t buy their way out of the system any longer and the full weight of justice fell straight on their heads.

“O’course it is, sweet heart. In fact, I could sweeten the deal for it. Add in some extra for such a cute little girl.”

“Really?” She widened her eyes more for the passing pedestrians than the drunk pawing at her. Hideo was too inebriated to notice her attitude shifting, but it didn’t do to drop character until the last instant.

“Yeah. I know about everything that little girls like you like. Ever heard of something called Z-Crystal?”

Renais nearly stumbled. Hideo took the opportunity to grope her again rather than steadying her. 

“W-what’s that?”

“Awww, you haven’t heard of it yet? You must be new, sweetie.” And, halfway down the alley, he opened his jacket revealing a pouch carrying twenty clear blue vials. “This’ll make you feel real good, I promise. And you’ll never have to worry about anything ever again…”

It was a good thing that he tried to run when Hyuuma came around the corner two seconds later. It gave Renais the excuse to send the monster tripping to the concrete. 

It was even better when he drew a gun and tried to take her hostage.

That meant that the camera on the cop car showed for the record that she was defending herself. Foot crushed, windpipe broken, arm snapped – the camera showed it all done exactly according to police protocol. And in front of a superior officer who didn’t even have to speak to tell her to stop after the perp was immobilized and weeping in the back of the cop car. 

She was proud of that. And Hyuuma was a good enough mentor not to mention the expression on her face. That bastard would get everything that was coming for him. 

\---------------------------------

Hideo didn’t come to work the day after that. J went through the day with the buzz of exhaustion making every flash of light sting the back of his eyes, but the pain was preferable to thinking too much about what had happened the night before. Other pilots glanced at him as he checked in and the dogs of rumor followed him all the way to China and back again, and by the time he’d taxied the small freight-liner there were murmurs of sympathy even from pilots who hadn’t been at the bar. Not that J really cared. He’d been putting up with Hideo for years, the realization of the man’s true attitude hardly changed the fact that he would have to be sharing a cockpit with him again soon enough.

But Hideo didn’t come to work the day after either, nor for the entire week after that, and when J was assigned a permanent new co-pilot the next week, he realized that something strange had happened. Hideo had gone home with the Lion girl…and hadn’t been seen since. The boss gave no reason for the man’s disappearance, but he seemed to hold no sorrow over permanently taking down Hideo’s flight schedule. Two weeks later, it was as if the man never existed.

Whatever had happened, the Lion-girl had done him a favor. His new co-pilot was a rookie, just out of flight-school, named Tomoro. He was chubby, naive, and had a terrible sense of humor but beneath his strange exterior he turned out to be a smart kid with a lot of potential. Plus, his father was an American Marine stationed in Okinawa and Tomoro had grown up around fighter planes and warships alike. J liked him almost immediately, and they were fast friends after only a week. Especially when J terrified all of Tomoro’s would-be bullied into submission via looming over them and glowering.

For a week after that Tomoro would attempt to steel his face whenever he saw J and mutter “MINE” with the gravely-est voice he could muster. Then he would laugh, and the tension inside J would ease just a little bit more.

\---------------- 

Of course, Tomoro didn’t know his history with the Lion-girl. So, though J would have much rather stayed home and avoided the bars for a few months, Tomoro was all buzzing excitement focused upon being part of the team in every way possible.

Even with Hideo gone, J wasn’t about to let Tomoro get pranked by their colleagues, so he was forced to tag along behind the rookie, fully prepared to drag the tubby pilot back to his apartment after inevitably being drunk under the table.

The fact that Tomoro could hold his liquor was the first surprise. The boy drank like a fish and was teaching the hookers the dirtiest sea-shanties he knew within the hour. J wasn’t in fact sure that Tomoro knew the girls were for sale – he treated them just like anyone else he encountered; politely, but with absolutely no idea where the line between humor and awkwardness was drawn. Apparently this didn’t bother the prostitutes in the least, as the girls that seemed to be between shifts and not actively looking for men clustered around the young man and attempted to sing along in their broken English. 

And then Butterfly wandered in and he saw a perfect match being made. The sweet, serine girl gravitated towards the chubby prankster and immediately hit it off. He told a bad joke, she tittered, and Tomoro was oblivious enough to not notice her pimp’s increasingly incessant questions as the other girls found men to go home with. 

Halfway through the night, J had seen enough. Tomoro hardly needed his protection except perhaps from the more predatory girls, and with Butterfly partnered with him there should be no problems.

“I’m heading out.”

Both Butterfly and Tomoro looked up, surprised.

“Already?” the co-pilot asked. “The night’s just getting started!”

“You might have tomorrow off, but I’m in the air.” J reminded him.

Butterfly looked between the two men and a shy smile lit on her face. “You’re partners? I should have known!”

At Tomoro’s confused look she explained. “Mr. Ejii is one our favorite patrons.”

J groaned as Tomoro’s eyes sparkled in amusement. “Oh, is he? And here I thought – “

But whatever incorrect assumption he’d made was cut short by the bartender giving an abrupt last call. The next set of girls was waiting in the wings, and this group had all found partners.

J smiled gratefully and turned to leave, certain that Tomoro would be safe in Butterfly’s arms.

Which meant he didn’t hear the boy ask, voice low and an odd quirk to his lips, “So what are you using?”

\--------------------------------------- 

The call came an hour later, as J was cooling down from his run. He always carried his cellphone and despite all logic to the contrary answered every call, even from unknown numbers. 

“Mr. Eiji? This is Papillion – Butterfly. You’re friend, there’s something wrong and I…”

On the other side of the call there was a crash and a scream and J’s mind went blank.

“Where are you?” His voice was dead cold and level. Around him pedestrians suddenly shied away, as the steel in his voice was mirrored by his eyes and body.

The girl listed off Tomoro’s address.

He ran for many reasons. Exercise, a way to clear his head and leave the past behind, but most of all to give him the feeling of flight he so sorely missed. But as a child, he ran to escape. Now, all that speed he had stored over the last twelve years was finally useful.

It took him five minutes to get there, running around traffic, faster than an ambulance could have made it. The key to Tomoro’s flat was still hanging in his own apartment, but the handle turned just as he was about to kick the door down.

Papillion’s face was tear-stained and frightened, but relief flooded it when she saw J.

“He just wanted a bit…it’s part of our service…I thought…” She was babbling half-sentences that made no sense until he found Tomoro huddled by his futon, a shattered syringe at his feet.

Tears streamed down the boy’s face. Beefy hands bunched in his short hair. And blood dripped down his face and arm, from a hand that still had slivers of glass clenched in his palm. 

It was a weird, detached, distant J who pulled Tomoro’s hands away from his head. Later he couldn’t remember what he said, though Tomoro’s words came through with complete clarity, never mind the boy was bubbling them through snot and tears.

“It was a test. Just another test. And I failed. I wasn’t supposed to want it. Just supposed to look at it and know that I wasn't like her.”

Someone else was beside him, a hand on Tomoro’s shoulder, speaking in a low, calm way, but J couldn’t hear her over his partner’s sobs.

“Mum...she said taking it made me go away. That it would be better if I never existed, and the drugs could give that to her.”

There were tweezers in his hand, and he didn’t know how they got there, but with deft familiarity he began pulling the glass from Tomoro’s hand.

“I only took them once. And mother was right. It makes everything go away.”

Next came the antiseptic. Washing the cuts out, holding the thick hand under running water and watching the viscous purple liquid wash away. 

“And her words just repeated, over and over, how she wished she never had me.”

It was gone. Now more antiseptic and bandages.

“And so I thought, it’s a test, right? Everyone does that, right? Prove I’m not like her...”

How many other men had he done this for? He tried not to remember the bandages he put on Abed; how no matter what nothing could stop the bleeding.

“And maybe, if I took the right drugs, it would fix me. So I could look at a beautiful woman like Butterfly and feel something. Something normal, not weird like the freak that I am.”

Tomoro was crying still, teeth chattering and hand trying to clench, even though J still held it open, lest the boy make the cuts worse.

“But I can’t. I couldn’t. But I’m just like mom, aren’t I? It’s no different. Thinking that it would be better to escape, to try to feel normal, just once…I’m no different! And I’ll die and my kid’ll find me and then…”

The rest of the words were lost, muffled in J’s shoulder as he gathered the boy up into a hug. He normally didn’t like to touch people, but it seemed the best option, and when Tomoro collapsed into boneless sobbing he finally came back to himself and realized that the world wasn’t shaking, it just felt like it. And though his mind rolled, his body remained still, breathing calm, his every movement clipped and precise, even as sensation began to return and his eyes refocused away from tunnel vision that saw the crisis and nothing else.

The first thing he saw, beyond Tomoro’s shaking head was a shock of pink hair.

The Lion girl sat back on her haunches and sighed, a wry, relieved calm growing on her face. Her hands were rubbing slow circles on Tomoro’s back, and she was murmuring words of quiet encouragement at the boy.

They were in Tomoro’s front room, sitting on the couch. Papillon hovered above the trio, worried eyes and fluttering hands. Around them the room was a mess, but no more disordered than the rest of the apartment; a bachelor’s suit. The real damage, J vaguely remembered, was in the bedroom, which had seen the brunt of Tomoro’s panic attack. 

“Papillion, would you make us some tea?” The girl asked, earning a relieved nod from the hovering butterfly. 

“You’ve dealt with Overdoses before.” He said to her, hands still holding Tomoro close.

She nodded but said “That wasn’t an overdose, though. Which you’re damn lucky for.” A gesture to the still-opened packaging on the table. “This shit is hell. Your friend isn’t the first I’ve seen with this reaction just from the memory of it.”

Cups rattled on a tray and Papillion abruptly set the tea things down, her eyes going to the other syringes…which the Lion girl deftly pocketed.

“Where did you get this stuff, Papillion?” There was a hard edge to the girl’s voice.

“Kei…” She looked from the Lion’s hard expression to J’s confused one. “It’s part of the service. We’re supposed to provide whatever the client wants. That’s how I…” She paused, hands bunching in her dress. “…never mind.”

J glanced at the Lion girl, surprised at the hard anger he saw in her face. Abruptly, she stood and left, slamming the door to the bedroom behind her and calling someone on her cellphone. Her voice was blocked by the door, but her tone was still angry as she spoke to the person on the other end of the line.

Tomoro stirred in his hands and blinked.

“…J? Why are you – “

“Drink something first.”

Mutely the boy took the tea from Papillion and started to sip. He wouldn’t look at J, even though his free hand remained clenched in the older pilot’s jacket.

“…m’sorry.” He finally said.

“You should be.”

Papillon gasped.

“If you were one of my men, I’d ground you for pulling a stunt like that. But…you’re not. You’re my partner. Which means that I’m stuck with you while you figure this out.”

Relief followed shock on Tomoro’s face. “You won’t tell the boss?”

“Do you actually take this?”

The boy shook his head.

“Are you going to have another attack in the air?”

Another shake. “I never…this is the first time I was tempted like this. When her pimp said it would help…I thought it was just Viagra or something!”

J glanced up at Papillion, who had the decency to look ashamed. Behind them a door slammed and the Lion girl reemerged.

“Right. And what exactly set you off?”

“The smell.” Tomoro explained. “That sticky sweet cinnamon. My mother…she was always smoking it. She called it incense when my father was around. The whole house smelled of it when she...you know. But I’ve never smelled it so strong before. The whole bar reeked of it, couldn’t you tell?”

Papillion spoke up. “All of the girls are on something. But this is what Kei is pushing hard now. It’s new. I’ve never tried it before, though some of the new girls and our regulars are already hooked.”

“Where does it come from? Okinawa?” 

Papillon shrugged. But Tomoro cautiously nodded. Okinawa was where he was from. 

“When my mother ODed, it was called Z-Metal. But that was years ago. This couldn’t be the same stuff…could it?”

Lion caught J’s eyes over the top of Tomoro’s head. His hand was already on his phone when she caught it and shook her head slightly.

Aloud she said “Papillion, would you tell the pilot what it’s like being addicted in this town?”

J inhaled sharply, shocked at her bluntness, but Papillion seemed to take the demand in-stride and immediately moved to sit down by Tomoro.

“…I first hit up in college. You know what it’s like, don’t you? Your mother…”

“In the end, she only cared about the next hit…”

“It’s like that for everyone.” Her voice broke, but she continued on. “And the pimps and the hustlers…they like that. It makes you an easy target. Like…like me. And in the end, I didn’t even notice when they pulled me from my program and put me on the streets. Every day it’s the same, first I – “

The lion girl gestured to the tiny kitchen and J stood, still half-listening to Papillion’s story. How many other young women were like her? The other pilots, the college kids who saw flight as a way to have a steady career with a bit of honor…they talked about hitting up at parties, about their daddies getting them off on drug charges and keeping the Yakuza collectors away. They were the lucky ones. Most everyone was like Papillion, dying for a drug that would eventually kill her one way or another.

Of course he’d seen the other side too, back in Afghanistan. The fields, the guerrillas and cartels that protected them. More dying for a drug so some monster could get rich, but no one said that aloud, not then and certainly not now. But Papillion spoke with such open frankness about it all that it was tempting to stay and listen…

But just as tempting to turn and follow the Lion as she tugged him away and then hissed under her breath, “Don’t call the cops.”

“What?” Both Papillion and Tomoro looked up at his angry response.

Quietly, he continued. “Why? That bar, that ass of a pimp, they’re…”

“You’ll just make things harder. For your partner, for Papillion.”

A muscle clenched in his jaw. “I understand you and your friend have a rough life, and this could get her in trouble. But you think I will stand aside and let poison like that leech into this city?”

He didn’t see her eyes widen slightly, or the way that she hid a flush, despite keeping the same hissing seriousness in her voice. “It could hurt your partner. He could be arrested, just like – “ a second’s hesitation, but J took it as a point to interrupt.

“Then maybe he would get the help he needs. This is wrong, and you know it.”

And she did, he realized. He had seen her often enough to tell that she likely wasn’t using herself…but must have watched Papillion and dozens of others suffer under their addictions. And, just like Tomoro, that could have a horrific effect on one's friendships and relationships…but her grim face and angry eyes indicated that either she was too broken by the system to think she could change it…or intended to take matters into her own hands.

A fact which he hoped was proven by her next words. “Don’t go to the club for the next month. I’ll deal with it.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms. “And how, exactly do you plan to – “

“I won’t go if you won’t!” 

The Lion looked over at Tomoro, who was standing, oblivious to the other conversation, fists bunched again and jutting his lower lip out.

“But I can’t …” Papillion murmured. “Kei…”

“To hell with your pimp. This…” a short pause, and then he barreled on. “This is your fault! So…so if I’m going then you’re going. And we’ll go together and both get better!”

He turned to the Lion, a fire of resolve in his eyes. “You’d agree, right? That she should quit?”

Lion glanced at Papillion, who looked momentarily hopeful…then crushed when Lion nodded her agreement with Tomoro.

“And you’ll hold her to it?” The boy asked. Again the Lion nodded and Tomoro sagged in relief. “I don’t think…I don’t think I could do it alone.”

“You won’t have to.” Surprised, Tomoro looked at J. “You aren’t the first person I’ve known ruined by something they’ve seen. I won’t…I won’t leave you like she did.”

The smile on Tomoro’s face nearly broke his heart.

The Lion girl nodded and bullied Papillion into exchanging contact information with Tomoro and started to push her towards the door, leaving J and Tomoro behind to clean up the mess.

“Wait!”

She glared at him. “If you are going to ask how I intend to protect them, you don’t want to know.” The look on her face indicated no possibility of debate.

He glared back. “No. I was going to ask…how old are you?”

A beat.

“16.”

\------------------------------------------------ 

“She didn’t look 16.” Tomoro said, after the women had left.

J shrugged and went back to tidying the apartment. Perhaps he was a bit obsessive about order, but after years of drumming recruits into cleaning their bunks, some things were ingrained. Tomoro’s apartment made his palms itch even before the panic attack wrecked half of it. 

“She looked at least 18.”

“Life like that is hard. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was 14.”

Tomoro looked skeptical. “I dunno. With all that makeup on it’s hard to tell. But I don’t know any teenager who would have reacted like that.”

“Like what?”

“She knew everything to do. Didn’t even blink, and grabbed all the right stuff to help you bandage me up.”

“So? She must have had experience.”

“Maybe. But…but I didn’t act like that at all when my mom died. I was a total mess. And I had prepared for it for years, expecting to come home to her dead every day. But that girl didn’t even flinch. She was better than Papillion, even, and almost as fast as you.”

J sighed and righted the plastic oil-tanker on the windowsill. In a way, that only made it sadder. A bright, brilliant girl like that, and all that she had to look forward to was a life like that of Papillion’s….

\---------------------------------- 

This was not what Renais looked forward to in life. Cornered in the station’s back office, her best informant huddled on a bench behind her and Hyuma in a rage…all that she could handle.

No. It was the paperwork that was hell. There were stacks and stacks of it that she had to complete, detailing every possible interpretation of her night. The only small satisfaction she got out of it was that Hyuma got more and more irritated as she slowly completed it. Over time the man started to simmer, then boiled over, and then finally erupted and tore the papers out of her hand.

“FINE. That’s enough! Tell me what happened!”

“Some new street-drug set one of Papillion’s clients off just from smelling it.”

He crossed his beefy arms. ”And why didn’t you just arrest him like all the rest?”

“Because the guy recognized it from Okinawa. From ten years ago. It was called Z-Metal then.”

Hyumma stilled. Then he whistled. “You think this is the link we need?”

Renais nodded and signed a final report. “It might be. Word on the street is that there’s a new power in town, riling up all the gangs and bringing in real exotic stuff, more than just Z-Crystal, but Soul and Machine King. No one knows where it’s coming from. But… All the pilots frequent that bar. Passenger and Commercial, legal and under-the-table. And when that bastard Hideo spilled his guts he said that Kei was one end of a chain. We can take out Kei and the men like him but…We’ve still got to find the other side.” 

“You say that like taking out a new crime syndicate is easy.” Hyuma leaned back on his desk, exhaling and looking at the plaster ceiling. “Last time we tried to run down a gang testing their shit in Okinawa they were protected by the big guns. And they’ve got ears everywhere.”

“Why do you think I didn’t call it in? The Yakuza have spies all over the precinct. There’s no way we can unravel this completely without letting them know. Unless…”

“Unless you go into deep cover.” Hyuuma sighed deeply. He didn’t like sending any of his cops into a volatile situation like this. But if there was any who was qualified for it, it was Renais Cardiff-Shishio. 

\---------------------------------- 

“Thank you.” Papillion whispered as they left Hyuuma’s office. “You didn’t have to come like that.”

Renais glanced at her friend. Did the girl really believe she’d abandon her after that terrified phone call?

“So pay me back. Go to those meetings with that kid. And keep that pilot off my back while I’m under cover.”

Papillion nodded slowly. “I guess…I guess it’s time, isn’t it? After all these years…”

Renais stopped and put an arm around her friend’s shoulder. “You’ve been clean for a week. That’s better than ever before, right?”

Papillion smiled hesitantly. “Yes. That…that was a kind of test for me too, wasn’t it? And Tomoro…he understood.” A pause. “And J did too. Didn’t you notice?”

Abruptly Renais looked away, back to the dusty second-floor of the station.

“I said keep him off my back.”

“But…”

“He was the co-pilot of the bastard that was bringing this stuff in.”

“You said Hideo bragged about bringing his shipments in ‘right under his partner’s nose’, right?” 

“Well…” Quickly, Renais was beginning to regret saying anything at all to Papillion. The girl was far quicker than she first appeared, and would only become sharper if she finally kicked her habit.

“And I heard what he said to you in the apartment. He was halfway to calling the cops.”

“Which makes him a liability.”

“Or an ally. What if his company is working as the transporters? You’ll need an in…”

“I’ll find one without depending on a sexy pilot!” 

Too late she realized what she had said. And what the rest of the office had heard. Mortified, she turned to see Hyuuma and the other off-duty vice officers quickly turning back to their paperwork.

A triumphant smile spread across Papillion’s face.

“So you think he’s – “

“If I agree to go on a date with him after this is all over will you let this drop?” She hissed, blush so crimson that it showed even from beneath her makeup.

“Well…”

“Assuming he’s not part of a drug cartel _and_ that you keep going to the meetings.”

“Deal.” Papillion extended a hand, gesture completely at odds with her refined persona, and Renais shook it. Then Renais watched as she made her way to the staircase and out onto the street, easily blending into the early-morning traffic, just another hooker going home from a successful job. 

Slowly, Renais breathed a sigh of relief. She had never gone into deep cover since meeting Papillion. Undercover, she couldn’t protect anyone, lest she endanger them further. And leaving Papillion alone invited disaster. But with Tomoro and J to look after her…

“Finally got a date, rookie?” Shouted one of the older officers. “About damn time someone cooled down the Lava Queen!”

Rage and equal parts embarrassment suddenly boiled up and she turned, avenging demon, to the unfortunate officer. It was damn lucky that she was going under cover soon. If not, the office would tease her about this for months. And by the time she was out, maybe the damn pilot would have forgotten about her.

\--------------------------------


	2. Chapter 2

Two months later, J still hadn’t seen the Lion girl again. Not that he had gone looking, per say. Quite the opposite; both he and Tomoro had been avoiding the bars completely. He spent most of his evenings alone exercising, focusing on running out the frustration he felt and toning his body back to what it was when he was still in the special forces. The rest he spent with Tomoro, getting to know the boy better as he opened up. 

Papillion was spending more time with them as well, but her relationship with Tomoro was completely platonic…and both she and Tomoro seemed to prefer it that way, odd circumstances aside. Eventually, Tomoro finally explained to both of them that he had never really felt interested ‘like that’ in anyone. Papillion seemed to relax even more around him after that, and by the end of the first month had basically moved in with him, spending as much time as she could away from her pimp and the temptations of Shinjuku.

It was an even exchange; even J could see that. Tomoro needed someone to balance out all of his strangeness and only someone who had experienced a similar hell could provide it. Papillion needed someone who knew what living a ‘normal’ life looked like, and who knew how to take care of someone on her frequent but decreasing trips. They were damn good for the other and J would never try to insert himself in their lives.

But…in an odd way both Papillion and Tomoro treated the other as slightly disposable. There would come a time when both would look at the other and see memories of the struggle they shared, and sometimes it would be too much to bear. Maybe their friendship would last past that but someday, god willing, they wouldn’t need the other so much.

It was good that they would never become lovers. Their friendship burned all the brighter for it and J was happy to find himself included in that. Papillion might understand what he was going through, but J offered Tomoro something else he sorely needed: freedom.

And there was no greater freedom than the skies. Hideo might have seen their profession as hours of boredom used to pick up chicks, but the goofy, twisted Tomoro actually understood the rush and love of freedom and why J longed for the skies so desperately, and why that freedom had to be defended at all costs. The hours they spent together in the air were near perfect, each almost anticipating the other’s needs and knowing exactly when to break the comfortable silence.

Tomoro was the best damn co-pilot J had ever had and it was a shame the boy was stuck flying commercial freight rather than acting as his co-pilot in fire-fights. In the air their strangeness balanced each-other out perfectly; Tomoro was more an engineer and J the best pilot the company had, even if the bosses didn’t realize it. Together, they could probably fly any possible plane that was thrown at them and might be able to push even the clunky out-of-date fliers into doing whatever stunt turned their fancy. It was only J’s stern discipline that prevented the pair from doing something foolish. 

Not that either mentioned that to Papillion, whose interest seemed to lie in biology, of all things. Privately, they both agreed that getting her back in college would be the best possible distraction for the girl, once she was able to escape her pimp permanently…which was a battle none of them were quite sure how to approach.

“I don’t need your help with Kei, really.” She said again, picking at the salad Tomoro had made for dinner. Both pilots preferred heavier fair, but Papillion couldn’t stomach much more on her bad days. 

“You’ve been out six nights this week.” Tomoro complained. “And even he’s said that your talents lie elsewhere. Why won’t he let you go?”

“Because I owe him money. And if I don’t keep up with interest…” She looked away. The pilots had seen what Kei had done to her the last time she hadn’t netted a companion for the evening. The bastard was good with his hands, hadn’t left a single bruise, but still left her tottering and leaning heavily on Tomoro all the way back to the apartment. And she still hadn’t been able to pay for bus fare.

“You should have let me renegotiate with him.” J growled, hands carefully steady on his chopsticks.

“But that would just make things worse.” Tomoro answered. “But if we got Kei arrested…”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Papillion said. “Pimps don’t get arrested. Their girls do. And even if they did…Kei has connections. He’s too important to be left to rot in a jail cell.”

“Your friend said she would take care of him.”

Silence. Papillion carefully set down her cup and looked up at J, suddenly switching from the trembling butterfly to the inscrutable courtesan with the purple eyes.

“I thought we agreed not to talk about her.”

J knew something had happened between the two girls, and now whenever the Lion was mentioned Papillion became silent like this. Nervous, but not simpering like she did around Kei. It was almost as if she had found something to fight for. But why worry about someone who she said she hadn’t spoken to in months…

“If she hurt you…” Tomoro began.

“No. She’s…she’s just gone.” A pause. “I told you, I haven’t seen her for months. I think…I think she went to Hong Kong.” 

Looking up from under her lashes, another one of those odd laden statements. J wished he could interpret what she meant when she spoke like that.

“Hong Kong? That’s where our next route is taking us.”

Papillion started, eyes going wide and becoming worried.

“Yeah.” Tomoro said. “We might be staying some nights there. But you know where the key is. And J has a place there right?”

J nodded.

“Why the change?” She asked carefully, picking her cup up again.

J shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s strange, though. We have four more planes flying from there each day but our cargo loads don’t seem to have increased any.”

“Not to mention all of the training flights they’ve got me doing.” Added Tomoro. “For every flight out I do with J, they’ve got me doing another flight back acting as co-pilot to another guy.”

“And this doesn’t bother you?”

J and Tomoro exchanged looks. “Well…” Tomoro began.

“Most freight companies like ours have very little consistency. As poorly run as it is, I suspect that our leader has to take any work he can get.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Just don’t get J started on what he would do differently!” Tomoro teased. “By the end of it, you’d be left thinking Hideki-san was running a drug cartel and J is the only person who could stop it.” 

“Tomoro.” J’s voice made Tomoro lose his smile very quickly. “Don’t even joke about that. Not in front of her.” He jerked his chin towards Papillion, but she was engrossed in her phone, texting hurriedly to someone. 

“Come on, you know something’s fishy!” Tomoro complained.

“He has a point.” Papillion added, glancing up from her phone. “If you are going to complain about my Kei, surely you should look just as seriously at your own work, if it truly is as strange as you say.”

J looked away. “Beating a pimp to death is of a different magnitude than accusing an entire company. The former I have no qualms about, the latter takes something more than a few accusations from a failure of a fighter pilot.”

Both Tomoro and Papillion looked interested, leaning forward to learn about J’s rumored past, but were disappointed when J put his silverware down abruptly.

“None of us are believable witnesses, unfortunately. But you’re right, it would be hypocritical of me of all people to accuse someone of allowing evil to continue.”

And with that he turned, pulling his running uniform off of the couch, and shutting the door behind him, leaving Tomoro and Papillion looking at each-other in confusion. 

\----------------------------------------------------- 

“Pizza guys say they deliver, but they’re moving house.”

Renais chewed on the end of her cigarette, ignoring the lecherous look from her client. They were marketing her for her ‘feisty’ nature; a bit of sass would go a long way to convince the man to buy her for the evening. In the meantime she spent an equal amount of time deciphering the warning as listening to the gossip that flew around her in the high-rise penthouse. 

It took longer than necessary simply because she didn’t quite want to believe Papillion’s words. How the hell had the home team figured out that Z was moving even before Interpol did? 

\--------------------------------------------------------------- 

He tried to remember his own words throughout the following weeks. No one had ever listened to his warnings before. Not the police, not the military elite, and often not even his friends. And inevitably, warning people only got them killed faster. Everything he’d experienced told him that he should just keep his head down and do his job, while the tides of politics and crime moved above him.

That would keep Tomoro and Papillion safer. It would keep him out of trouble, and more importantly it would keep him flying. Hideki had taken a chance on him when he hired the disgraced pilot; how disloyal was it to doubt the hand that fed you?

All of which went contrary to the flash-drive with the shipping manifests that fit snugly in his jacket pocket. Or the quickly scribbled notations for weight and fuel levels that he had carefully copied into a spreadsheet and then destroyed any external record of. No one would think anything of his insistence on enacting the testing procedures to the letter, even as his co-pilot rolled his eyes and complained about losing sunlight.

Tomoro would have caught on, and helped him hide the obvious testing of the dials with complaints about everything else but the time and precision that J jotted down. But Tomoro had been reassigned to a young, arrogant pilot who skimped on all security protocols, not just the ones that might alert an observant pilot that someone was fiddling with the dials…or adding extra cargo on and hiding the discrepancy by incorrectly recording the fuel levels.

J was being a fool. A very careful fool, who had learned from many, many bad experiences with asinine superiors and sabotage-happy terrorists , but a fool none-the-less.

What possible utility could this information bring? Yes, there was extra cargo being moved on each of J’s flights. Yes, that fact was being hidden with a creativity that only someone who had worked in the business for years would be able to enact. And that someone apparently did not care about the consequences of a readouts giving back incorrect data or over weighing planes that had to travel across the pacific. Whatever motivated the mastermind behind this all, the safety of the pilots under his command was the last thing on his mind.

But none of that mattered when there was no one J could give the information to. 

After all, he was friends with prostitutes and former drug addicts. Every single one of his fellow pilots might be one of the necessary accomplices for the crime. And when those were the people he knew, chances were that there was no police officer he would ever meet that wasn’t as corrupt as everyone else in the scheme. 

But still, he collected the data, erasing his tracks and playing nice with his new co-pilots. Every evening he got a call from Tomoro, telling him of the progress he and Papillion had made, talking to him about how they were safe and having a good time, promising that they weren’t getting into trouble. 

Every night he was tempted to warn them, to beg them to be careful. The knowledge of the danger he had brought to his friends by noticing the discrepancies terrified him. He prayed that this was all the invention of his deluded mind, not something that could endanger good people like Tomoro and Papillion. They didn’t deserve the hell that people like the cartel bosses could unleash. The best he could do was to cover his tracks or forget it completely…but he couldn’t bring himself to do the latter. There was evil in the world, and if it didn’t engulf his friends now then it would threaten them in the future with the crawling poison of the drugs he was almost certain were being carried on his planes.

But what could he do? There was no one he could turn to save them.

\------------------------------------ 

The answer showed up at his door in the pouring rain, soaked through and looking as if the cat had dragged her up all fifty flights of stairs.

The Lion looked at him helplessly. 

“There’s nowhere else I can go.” 

It wasn’t until he had pulled her inside and bundled her into the biggest towel he could find that he stopped to consider how the hell she had managed to find him. But by then she had fallen asleep in his arms, hands going slack and damp hair making a puddle on his shirt, so he didn’t think too closely about the fact that Tomoro hadn’t needed the apartment number yet, which meant that Papillion probably didn’t know it, and anyways hadn’t Papillion said she hadn’t spoken to the Lion in months…

But she couldn’t have come at a worse time, as he felt his own eyelids drooping. Twelve hours in the air, two flights to and from Hong Kong, and an irritating co-pilot that wouldn’t shut up both ways. No need to be at work for another two days, and no-one to notice if he went missing…

He had enough sense left to dead-bolt the door and turn off the lights, and then he was out, collapsing on the couch and wrapping his arms around his soggy, under-aged burden.

\----------------------------------------------- 

Renais woke fast, panic surging through her system, as she felt someone’s grip tighten around her shoulders. Her heart pounded as she desperately tried to remember the last night – 

A raid by the cops, must have been set up by one of the rival gangs. Scrambling to get the remaining intel she needed before the servers were wiped, the data sent, enough to at least put some of them away though not cripple the whole operation.

Watching the face of the boss as he realized that all of the men in the car he trusted, but the girl at his side had nothing to lose and thugs were just as mad at her as their arch rivals…jumping into traffic, the squeal of tires on wet streets, gunshots in the distance, her purse tight in her hands. Cover blown behind her, the mob comparing notes, the shotguns replaced with police sirens. Losing her tail in the streets, ducking into coffee shops and arcades, the cold certainty that Hyuuma was an ocean away and the cops all crooked and their masters out for her blood. 

Nowhere to go, a galaxy away from her safe-house, and nothing but apartments run by more tongs on all sides. Not a friend in the sky…

The world swirled and clicked back into focus. She hadn’t been captured, hadn’t fucked some random creep to get off the streets and into an apartment. She was lying on a couch, still wearing the skin-tight outfit she’d been in last night, wet and cold but in the arms of someone who murmured quietly in her ear each time she shifted or shivered. 

J. Papillion had said he had an apartment here. She had known the number from her research into the man. After all, she wasn’t one to trust anyone, much less a pilot who worked for a crooked freight company. Tiny apartments in several different cities didn’t improve her opinion of him…but each and every one was paid tidily above board, from a paycheck in which every cent was rigorously delineated. So much for food, so much for rent, a miniscule amount for pocket money and the rest shoved into a savings account that hadn’t seen any activity other than deposits since it was founded. Not the spending habits of a man much given to illicit activities. In fact, his life written out on paper wasn’t much different than hers. The bleakness of a life given to one’s job, the biggest expenses off-brand exercise equipment. Looking at those accounts she tried not to think of how that reflected on her; suspicious of a man whose life appeared near-indistinguishable from her own on paper.

Then again, she bought all her explosives under-the-table, so there was no way of knowing for sure if the neat little life on paper really matched up with the reality. Though she didn’t have the clearance to find out his entire military history…

At the time, standing in the pouring rain with guns at her back and thugs searching the street for her, even the slim chance of an honest pilot seemed a better option than the hell that awaited her if she didn’t find shelter. 

And now…he was holding her close, and out the window she saw nothing but gray, rainy sky. His shirt was soaked through and a musty green leather jacket had been thrown over the both of them. She knew with complete certainty that if the mob could track her here they were both dead. But as each hour ticked by that possibility became less and less likely. Had she covered her tracks? Well enough to get here, losing herself in the crowd and falling back on instincts hard won from her years undercover. And this apartment was just one of a million others like it, towering above the skyline of Hong Kong. One apartment, most often vacant, empty of anything but the basics; a couch, an outdated television, drab curtains that barely blocked out any light at all.

It looked almost exactly like her safe-house, half a city away. But with the added benefit of cool arms around her exhausted form and a heartbeat thumping in time with her own.

_I shouldn’t endanger him more_ …was her last thought before she faded back to sleep.

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

When she woke next it was with a cool compress on her forehead and the sound of something frying in a tiny kitchen.

Groggily she wiped the water from her brow and realized belatedly that her skin was hot to the touch. A fever. Just what she needed after a night on the run. Her body felt weak as she sat up and she focused on the man behind the counter.

“….J?”

The pilot looked up, surprised, but said nothing. He looked so…normal, standing there, in an off-white t-shirt and tight jeans, the picture of some minor salaryman, insulated from all the chaos that raged outside his doors.

“I…I should go.”

She made to get up, but was stopped by the sudden whirl of the room and his single word. “Stay.”

Chastised, she thumped back down on the couch, pulling the coat tighter around her shoulders. Already she could feel the chills starting. She wouldn’t last long, out on the streets, even if the manhunt had died down.

“Why?”

Her protector said nothing, merely walking over and handing her a plate with an omelet. Eggs, ham, green onions, all cooked to the exactly correct consistency. The same kind of exactitude she had learned to expect from his records.

“You don’t…you don’t have to do this. You don’t know what – “

“A girl came to me cold and scared. What kind of man would I be to turn her away?”

She looked away, her silence answer enough. It wasn’t fair, to endanger someone like this. What kind of man would let a mess like her in? And what kind of man would look at a sopping wet hooker and not even ask for anything in return?

“I’m not what you think I am.” She finally said, as the silence lengthened and he pushed the fork into her hands. 

“I don’t care.”

He meant it. Odd, how she knew that instantly. Just like some core part of her knew that she didn’t need to run when she found his arms around her, or when he had called a cab for her the first time. Against all logic, she trusted this man she barely knew.

So she finished the omelet in silence, eating mechanically and trying not to catch his eyes as he did the same with his own plate.

“…you can use the shower. There should be some old cloths in there as well.”

“Thanks.” She set her plate in the sink and put his jacket on the back of the counter-stool. He was right; a hot shower would do much to calm her frazzled nerves and fight her fever. She felt chilled to the bones, and it wasn’t just from the fever, but from what she had seen over the last few months.

\-------------------------------------------- 

J watched the girl walk back into his bathroom and shut the door firmly behind her. He winced. The dirt and grime on her legs might wash off, but beneath it were bruises and fatigued muscles that shook with every step she took. Whatever she had been running from, it must have been serious. While it wasn’t the worst beating he’d seen – and he’d seen quite a few – the girl looked ragged even after a full eight hours of sleep. And no matter how much kindness he offered her, she still didn’t completely trust him; that much was obvious from the way she hesitated when taking his food and kept her purse with her even in the restroom, despite the fact that he could have rifled through it any time during the night.

He shook his head. The façade of urbane young woman was shattering, but he wasn’t quite sure what would emerge from beneath. And what could scare the young woman who had not batted an eye at a potential drug overdose? Why was she in Hong Kong anyways? The logic made no sense.

He was still musing about it when there was a knock on his door. The second knock in as many days, on a door that he had never told anyone the location of.

Cautiously, he stood and glanced out through the peephole.

“Open up. Police.”

His mind whirled. The shower had shut off abruptly at the knock. Was this what the girl had been running from?

“Do you have a warrant?”

The green hair beneath the hole retracted, to be replaced with a glaring eye. “You don’t want to make this a fight, buddy. Trust me.”

“If you would please show me your – “

He stopped, having glanced back at the bathroom, only to see the Lion girl hunched behind a wall wearing his jacket and boxers…and sporting a pistol. The look in her eyes spelled murder.

“Look, buddy, I just want to talk to the girl. I know she’s here. Five minutes, just to make sure she’s okay.”

Abruptly she lowered the pistol and relaxed.

“Hyuuma?” 

An instant later she was gently pushing J away from the latch. She glanced out, then unlocked the door and opened it without asking for permission.

Beyond it the officer stood alone, arms crossed over a chest that strained the fabric of his white dress shirt. The grim lines on the man’s face softened as soon as he saw the girl and he dropped the gun he’d been holding just outside the range of the peep-hole.

“Renais! Damn, girl, you led us on a merry chase.”

“They were coming after me with everything they had. I didn’t have much choice.”

The man exhaled and relaxed more. “Well you found a good hideout, I’ve gotta say. After Interpol lost you were thought for sure you were a gonner, but less than an hour later our 'friends' were on our case to find some missing terrorist, or at least turn her corpse over. We figured you might have gone to ground if they hadn't captured you yet but..."

“But you weren't sure. Sorry. I couldn’t chance getting picked up by a crooked cop. Someone had been selling them information for years, but I couldn’t quite figure out who…”

“Don’t worry about that. What’s important is that you’re safe. But…”

“…I can’t come back yet. I know.”

The man called Hyuuma nodded unhappily. “The hunt is just getting started. We’ve got the information you sent us, but tracking them all down is going to get ugly.”

At J’s cough, both turned to him.

“…could you please tell me what is going on?”

A flush spread across the girl’s face. “Ah – well, I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

She fished in her purse and pulled out a wallet. When she flipped it open a neat ‘Interpol’ badge glinted in the center.

“You…you’re a cop.”

With a flick she sent her hair back over her shoulder. Without the die it was red rather than pink; not a Japanese color at all. She straightened up slightly, and for the first time he noticed how much older she looked without the makeup caked over her face. Standing half-naked in his apartment, dark-circles under her eyes and growing bruises on her legs, she summoned the look of a lion, fierce and strong.

“Agent Cardiff, at your service.”

\------------------------------------------ 

The realization hit J like a blow immediately after he got his libido under control. He stumbled and then turned and disappeared back into his room. Renais watched him go, her heart sinking a bit. 

“…you didn’t tell him?” Hyuuma asked.

“I kind of passed out on him the moment I showed up.” Turning back to her partner she fished in her purse and pulled out the rest of the information she had managed to find. The flash-drive looked like a lipstick container, but Hyuuma recognized it immediately. Unfortunately, he also recognized the boy.

“He’s the one that sent you home half a year ago, isn’t he?”

She nodded, flushing at Hyuuma’s suddenly knowledgeable look.

“Lucky for you, that he works for one of the drug-runners. They’ll never think to look for you here. Hell I could barely find you, and that was only because I remembered you asking for personal information on one of the cleared pilots.”

Her flush grew exponentially as J reappeared, having clearly heard Hyuuma’s words. 

“I was just making sure he wasn’t involved…” She mumbled.

“…you know that Shinu Freight is trafficking?” J asked over her, a grim line growing on his face.

“...yes?” Hyuuma responded. “That’s what she’s undercover for.”

The man was surprised at the reams of paper thrust into his arms. “Here was everything I could gather on them. Flight records, the weight discrepancies, and how they likely changed the dials to hide the additional cargo.”

Renais grabbed the top sheet of paper from Hyuuma, scanning over it quickly and then going through the whole stack rapidly, a crumple and flash of paperwork. “…this…this is what we’ve been looking for! The bosses won’t be able to hide this. All we need is to ground the planes before they destroy the incriminating evidence...” She spoke fast, excitement coming to her exhausted voice. 

“We’ll have to move fast, though.” Hyuuma said, hand already on his cell. “Your escape tipped them off; the tongs are scrambling everyone they can to find the supplier that lead the law to their door. The minute they realize it was the Z-Metal pushers, all our evidence will go up in smoke. You might have bought us some time by disappearing, but even Interpol can’t cover everything. The whole cabal will be in the wind soon enough.” But the task force had prepared for this possibility, and even as he spoke Hyuuma was flashing pictures of the files to his staff back at the embassy, and elsewhere trusted police were being mobilized to go after the targets J and Renais had provided. It would be close; the cabal and the police racing to out maneuver the other, a war played out on the streets and ports, all started by the proof the two had given. 

But J stood, stunned, not thinking of the greater world. The instant his information hit the police, informants would have it out to those in charge. It was a race against time, but right now he didn't care about the larger picture, about the upper level tongs that would be arrested or the lives that would be saved down the line.

“They’re going to cut their losses… _Tomoro_.”

Renais froze, her eyes widening, seeing the same horrific vision that he did. Planes in flames, fingers pointed...

Hyuuma broke the silence.

"Who's Tomoro?"

\-------------------

But J was already gone, bolting through his apartment to find his cell. Tomoro was scheduled to fly today. And he was the perfect one to pin this all on, the perfect one to sacrifice in favor of the greater machine…damn them, the probably had hired him for just this eventuality! 

He dialed the number in a haze, and heard the hollow ring of a deactivated phone. No! No service, no way to know if he was already in the air, and no way to reach him even if he was still on the ground, what with the whole company likely in on the murder.

J tried again, same result, finding his hands starting to shake as he mechanically pushed the buttons on the phone. Rage and helplessness started to boil inside him, knowing that, once again, there was nothing he could do to save his partner. But this time, he wouldn't even get to say goodbye. Tomoro would be gone, and all that idealism and hope and potential would be stripped from the world. _And he couldn't save him._

But then the rolling despair was cut short with a hand on his shoulder, jolting him aware.

He turned and found Renais looking up with frigid calm. In her other hand was a cellphone, a burner. Her fingers flew fast on the numbers, while her fist in his shirt tethered him to reality.

The ring was answered in less than a second.

“…Papillion? I need you to do something for me…”

_She lied._ He thought as relief flooded through him. _They were in contact all along._

\---------------------------------------------------------- 

This client had her for the whole day. He'd payed a pretty penny for it, and the results of it were painted all along Papillion's slim body. She had spent the night crushed beneath his weight, captured in the heavy man's embrace, unable to reach the vial and syringe that would have made the sleepless night bearable.

The man shifted, and she pushed herself forward, fingers just able to hook onto her purse. Surely Renais and Tomoro would understand, just this once. No one could be expected to survive this alone...

But instead her phone rang, buzzing enough to make her client groan and release her. Unknown number, unknown origin, but she flicked it open anyways, eyes still on the needle.

"Papillion. I need you to do something..."

\------------------------------------------------

Tomoro checked the controls again, chest swelling with pride. His first flight as captain, and he couldn't be more excited. Every man in the hangar had wished him well, patting him on the back in a show of the camaraderie he had been yearning for ever since joining up. For once he was part of the team, and he couldn't believe his luck. Clear skies, a beautiful sea, and nothing but miles of freedom before him.

His co-pilot double checked the readings and then radioed forward to confirm they were ready to leave. The dials all read clear; the plane had finished its inspection and was ready for take-off. Now all he had to do was taxi onto the runway. Finally, proof that he was where he belonged. Only a few more minutes…

The radio crackled to life, an unfamiliar voice on the line.

“Sorry about this, Tomoro, but we just got an emergency call for you.”

Blinking, Tomoro looked up, and eased his hands from the controls. “…is it J?”

“No, some girl called Papillion listed you on her contact info. They say she’s having some kind of attack. Should I tell them to buzz off?”

But Tomoro was already out of his seat and the co-pilot was taking over. There was only one thing that could be happening to Papillion.

His heart pounded as he ran down the stairs. _Not Papillion. Not her too…_

Had he gotten any further away, he might not even have noticed the explosion behind him. As it was, he was thrown from the plane when the control system exploded, ripping apart the cockpit and the pilot inside. He only came to afterwards, with sirens ringing in his ears and Papillion at his side, hand on his, her words split evenly between assuring him that she was alright and apologizing for lying to him.

Somehow, she had saved his life, just like he had intended to do for her.

\------------------------------------- 

Renais snapped her phone shut and turned to J. Hyuuma had left not long ago, having cross-referenced the data she and J had recovered and intent upon using it to round up the rest of the cartel. 

“He’s fine. Papillion got to him in time.”

J breathed a sigh of relief and abruptly sat down on the couch, emotions crashing down. Renais had been sitting at the counter for the last two hours, pulling in several of her contacts to make sure the ruse worked, bribing a control-tower employee to let the warning go through, having Papillon make up a story that fit with what the other pilots knew of the rookie and his girl, moving faster even than the police could. And even then, they had barely been in time to prevent Tomoro from being caught in the explosion.

Several other pilots across the world were not so lucky, but with the warning they’d given most had been evacuated before the planes' controls exploded. Several would likely be willing to testify against the company that attempted to kill them and point the direction to where the bosses had fled to. Add that to the joint records that she and J had been able to scavenge, and the whole cartel might fall.

But J didn’t care about any of that. He’d fought a war before and had no interest in being on the front lines of another one. What he cared about was that Tomoro and Papillion were safe.

Renais – the name fit her just as well as ‘Lion’ did, though now he knew the reason behind the moniker – sat down beside him. His heartbeat slowed as the chaos and worry finally disappeared, even as the endorphins made his mind whirl. Tomorro was safe, and now he could think of other things.

She was breathing easier too. Strange, to see such a collected woman show worry for a man she'd only ever seen at his worst. But Tomoro had that effect on people, and perhaps he wasn’t the first she'd tried to save. That, at least, fit both her cover and her true self.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” she finally said.

He shrugged. Her disguise had been a good one. Even he had been fooled. Then he blinked; Hideo had been fooled as well. No wonder the man was gone – he must be rotting in a jail cell now, all because he said ‘yes’ to a cop’s offer. It served him right; only a monster would go after a teenager. But now…

“How old are you?”

She blinked and looked at him oddly. “…why do you want to know?”

He didn’t answer, merely looking at her steadily. No cop with a badge was under the age of twenty. But the girl seemed the sort to break rules when it suited her, for the sake of justice in the long run. It was possible…

“Twenty four.” His eyes widened slightly and she laughed. “What, you really believed that line about – “

But the kiss interrupted her and he swallowed her laugh along with her protest.

\---------------------------------- 

Not that it was much of a protest. More of a startled yelp and then a fight for dominance that left her seated on top of him, grin on her face and jacket hanging open to show her chest. She still hadn’t gotten around to putting more on. She didn’t care.

“That was brilliant, what you did.” She bent down for another kiss.

“you too…” Her mouth crushed against his and he felt his heart jump. She still smelled of soap and tasted of toothpaste. 

Beneath her fingers his skin was desperately pale. He, too, smelled soap and aftershave, with a hint of grease beneath it all. Hard muscle tensed beneath her fingers and she resisted the temptation to tickle his stomach, choosing instead to tug his shirt up further, revealing a long, thin frame she had every intention of ravishing with all her secret fantasies. 

She mewed unhappily when he sat up and pushed her off. 

“Bedroom. Futon.”

He had a point. The couch was too small for his lanky frame to relax out on, but the floor was a tempting alternative. As it was, they barely made it half a step before she stood on tiptoes to kiss him again. 

“I should have done this sooner.”

He thumped into the wall of the hall, leaning back to let her nuzzle his neck. “Would’ve broken your cover…”

A laugh. Then she nipped his neck lightly. “I gotta take someone home occasionally…”

He gasped as her fingers snaked between his legs. Normally a quiet man, the sound he made as she cupped him was indecent. 

“Nnnn. Lion – “

“Renais.” she corrected. “Get my name right or I’ll suddenly remember the paperwork I need to file.”

“I’m not going to let you get that far.” He growled in return, picking her up bodily and dropping her onto the futon. 

“Really? Is a pilot out of the air any match for an officer on the ground?” She teased, catching the back of his knees with her feet and forcing him down.

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with.” She stilled beneath him. When he looked up her eyes had turned serious.

“Former Captain J Eiji. Awarded the Red Ribbon of honor for combat service then disgracefully discharged for hitting a superior officer.” A pause as she took in his shocked reaction. “You were shot down in enemy territory and held for six months in Afghanistan. The press release said you were delivering food to a war-torn town, and that your co-pilot died.”

He rolled away, hand tensing in the sheets. “Is that all it said?”

“All that’s important.”

\---------------- 

The second kiss was slower, as she turned his face to hers and pressed her lips lightly on his brow. She captured his mouth as he opened it to give one last protest, to argue that she was just some naïve girl rather than a warrior just like he. He, of all people, should have known better. The things she could do with her tongue stole all hint of naivety, along with the image of the poor girl-child that had been caught up in a cruel industry. Her lips quirked as he returned the kiss in full, surrendering to her demands eagerly.

She arched into his touch, grinding against him though he was still over her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, capturing him as surely as her fierce smile had all those months before, and he groaned into her lips before pulling away to leave feathery kisses all the way down her cheek to the underside of her jaw. The sound she made as he tongued her pulse was indecent, and she dropped the hand that had been fisting his hair to tug at the button of his jeans. There was no doubt that she needed this release just as much as he, if her peaked nipples and flushed face were any indication.

But reality exerted itself, and he pulled away with a groan to remove his clothes more efficiently, shirt hitting the floor first, followed by an in-elegant shimmy and kick to remove his pants and underwear. He flushed hot as she made a pleased hmm at the sight of him, tattoos, lanky frame and all. Then she looked away, hand dropping off the edge of the bed to rummage in her purse, and he had to swallow his own sigh as he saw her half-naked and lounging on his bed, the stupid makeup and innocent eyes gone, replaced by a sultry, flushed face and a body that was so well muscled that he couldn't imagine how he had ever thought her less than mature. He was going to run his fingers over every contour of that body, feel the strength and heat of her, and enjoy every damn minute of it.

She shouted in triumph and pulled a condom from her purse and, in a move he knew she must have learned from pornos, ripped the foil with her teeth and balanced the latex between her lips. By then, he was all too ready for her to push him down the the bed. Even knowing what was coming, he nearly slammed into the headboard when she coyly winked then swallowed his erection all the way to the base. His knees jerked as she pulled back, tongue laving the underside of his dick, and he clutched the sheets to stop a second spasm when she released him, leaving the condom in her wake.

"F-fuck." He groaned and she grinned wide then shimmied out of her - his - boxers. She left the jacket on, though, and if there was any better way to claim him as hers, J didn't know it. Now every time he wore the musty green leather he would be reminded of the Lion, kneeling between his knees, looking down at him as if she had just stolen the crown jewels. 

And maybe she had, for she leaned down to mouth his cock again, hands running up his thighs, then kissed the join between groin and hips, and then proceeded to climb him, tongue lapping at the tensed muscles of his stomach and nibbling at his ribs. The sheer heat of her amazed him, driving out every lingering fear and ache, burning at every point of contact between them. Her mouth on his chest, balancing an equal number of bites and kisses, forced him arching against her, his voice wrung out as her teeth scraped the skin of his neck and then left him, aching for more.

The sudden loss of her pulled out a whimper, and he opened his eyes to find her kneeling above him, hips pressed tight against his groin, a wicked smile on her face. His erection jerked against her, desperate for more, and the smile only widened as she languidly rolled her hips and he bit back another curse. For one moment he was helpless in her arms, desire stripping all sense from his mind, leaving nothing behind but want... and the acceptance of what was to come. 

Gods it had been too long since he'd done this. He hadn't even had a one night stand since his special forces days, always too lost in his own regrets and inadequacies. Too unwilling to expose himself again, lest his happiness be ripped away as easily as Abed had been. But there she was, staring down at him as if she saw everything and accepted it all. 

She reached down to brush the fringe from his eyes, coy smile but genuine affection in her eyes, he felt something within him break. 

It had been six years since he'd let another get so close, six years since he'd let anyone see past his stern facade. But she - and Tomoro and Papillion as well - had broken all his certainties so slowly that he was left shocked when he felt for all his old pains and barriers and felt nothing holding him back. Instead he leaned forward, and her lips met his, her hips shifted, and then neither could say - or would ever care - who moved first. 

It was a tussle, a dance, a fight, each giving in to passions that had building for months, or perhaps years. Neither lasted long, Renais still flushed from fever and J long out of practice, but in the tangle of sheets and limbs it hardly mattered. All that did was the way she called out his name as she came, body tightening around him and arching, and he needed only feel her around him and see her gasp before he was falling as well, the world going white and his breath leaving him in a soundless shout, years coming and yet still a surprise. 

He was never going to get sick of the smile she gave him, bright and honest and loving, as she pulled him down next to her and cuddled close, five and a half feet of loose limbs and tired triumph. Later he would likely regret kissing a fever struck woman so passionately, but now he simply let her cuddle close, heat healing his aching bones. Languidly she traced the scratches she had left on his shoulders, and he apologized by kissing each red mark he had left on her neck and breast, and both interrupted the other to say they would wear the signs with pride. Perhaps the marks would fade, but the memory of them would have both smiling for weeks to come, fingers ghosting over the memory of their night together, a little extra push of strength to keep going no matter what trials they faced. 

There, nestled close and feeling warm for the first time since returning home, J sighed and let his eyes fall closed. Around them the world could go mad, but their friends were safe and their jobs done, and they had more than earned this one moment of peace.

\----------------------------


	3. Chapter 3

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

J woke with a start, arms instinctively closing around empty air and leaving him in a panic. Where was - 

"No, I am not going to follow that order! Do you have any idea what you're asking me?"

Renais's voice came clear from the other room, and he groggily gathered the covers around him and padded out to meet her. In the two days since Shinu freight had fallen he had both lost his job and caught the same fever as Renais. But he didn't regret his actions for a moment. Just being with her was enough like flying to stifle his desperate need for the sky, at least for now.  
almost enough to sooth the pain of being land-bound once again.

Still, her ability to bounce back from any injury was frankly amazing, given how she was up and angry even while his head felt as if it was filled with cotton.

She favored him with a smile as he emerged from the bedroom, then turned back to her cell-phone, switching from English to Cantonese to Japanese in the space of a few sentences, clearly cursing every other word. 

"Yes, you are talking about my witness you -"

In any other woman he would suspect her irritability to stem from fever or being cooped up in a tiny apartment for three days. But he suspected that this was more a showing of her true character, as she talked over the bevy of voices on the other line.

"You know what? Fine. But I expect first class tickets. Got it? Good."

She slammed the end call button so hard J was surprised it didn't crack and threw her phone back into her bag with such force that the purse slid off the counter and thumped ungracefully to the floor. He caught a glimpse of pure rage on her face. Then she sighed, straightened her back, and turned to him apologetically.

"They want you to arrest me." That much had been clear from the half-heard conversation.

She nodded. "Yeah. But there's no way in hell that's going to happen."

"I don't mind." He said. "It's the sensible thing to do." He held his hands out, room spinning slightly, and waited for the cuffs.

She stared at him, unmoving, for a beat. Then she laughed.

"You really do have a martyr complex, don't you? Why don't you leave this to the professional, huh? You - " She poked a finger at his chest as he lowered his hands. "Are one of my lead witnesses, criminal or not. Which means you're stuck with me." She snorted. "Call it house arrest or protective custody, doesn't really matter. You're my responsibility."

"Anyway," She continued. "Neither of us can be on the streets for the next few days. The tongs might have bigger enemies, but I'm sure they'd save a few bullets for us. Let the higher ups figure out the paperwork, get you extradited, and send us our tickets, then we can worry about who's arresting who."

Then she paused and looked straight at him. 

"But if you don't want to risk it...I'll give you one chance to run. I owe you at least that much for what you've done for Papillion." 

His mouth went dry. If he left...Renais's main witness would disappear into smoke, and with out him the defense could discredit everything he'd worked so hard to find. And the other pilots might also start dropping out, without a clear leader to turn to. In offering him a chance to leave, she was essentially giving up the case and, likely, her career. 

She stared at him, clearly waiting for an answer, clearly uncertain of the one he would give. 

He quirked a sardonic smile. "Is honor so dead, that a warrior would turn his back on one so willing to stand in his defense?"

Relief flooded her face. "What did I say? A martyr till the end. In that case - " She kicked her purse out from beneath the table and gestured him to follow her around the couch. "I have a few job offers for you."

He blinked, and thumped down next to her. "And you weren't going to tell me that _before_ offering me an escape?"

She grinned. "Well, with these jobs, if you thought of leaving, you wouldn't be worthy of them anyways."

For the first time in six years, his laughter rang out uninhibited, and it took them a while to finally get to her selections. Long enough that the tea went cold and her phone battery died, but not before he saw the zeros behind the salary figures, and the one word that he truly cared about. "Pilot"

\--------------------------- 

In the years afterward, both looked back on their week under lock-down as the closest thing they ever had to a honeymoon. Certainly no one else would think spending a week in a tiny apartment with half of the Chinese underground out for their blood to be enjoyable, but then again most people weren't J and Renais. The cop was used to long stakeouts, but this was the first time she had ever gotten to include _makeouts_ along with the more general terrible Chinese takeout and perimeter sweeps. And J...J realized that he hadn't really had _fun_ since the war. At least, fun that didn't involve alcohol, exercise, or attending AA meetings. And as much as he wanted to support Tomoro and Papillion, Renais offered him something he hadn't had since his time with Abed. She could _spar_.

And she was damn good at it too, despite his three-fold advantage of longer reach, height, and speed. The woman fought _dirty_ , like the worst street thugs or back-alley brawlers, using anything and everything to her advantage, whether they be couch-cushions, kitchen knives, or kisses. And she packed a punch, leaving a mean bruise when she managed to reach him. J had never met a woman so willing to fight for fun, and enjoyed every second of it. 

Then there was her cooking, a complete and total surprise, though he preferred her more Japanese fair over the sugary European confections that she effortlessly concocted out of his meager kitchen ingredients. After three days of terrible carryout he had been willing to eat just about anything, but her skill honestly shocked him, and then it there was nothing to do but explain how she had come by her talent for French Cuisine. She showed him her three passports one American (from her Father), one French (from her mother), and one Japanese (for her birth country). She explained that she cooked to remember her mother, and was a cop to spite her father. 

Over the next few days (and two bottles of wine) the whole strange story came out, of how she had seen her mother murdered as a child and was left orphaned by the Yakuza thugs taking everything of value from her home, including her mother and her passports and papers. Those were used to traffic hundreds of girls and women through Japan, for the whole year it took for Renais to escape the psyche ward the orphanage had placed her in after she insisted that her father was "a famous scientist that's in all the papers". Dr. Liger, of course, had assumed a much more benign reason for his wife and daughter's disappearance, an assumption that was only belied when his daughter showed up to his one Japanese conference in grubby hospital whites and a downright murderous look. 

J had to hear the story twice before believing it, and only later realized that Renais had used her history as a way of tugging out his own. He barely even remembered talking about the heat and sand and the desperate desire for all the pain and memories to go away. But she pulled it out of him anyway, then didn't flinch when he spoke candidly of Abed's death and the crushing despair that followed, or the way he just accepted that his own death would be for a political stunt to stop Japan from sending aid. Surely she had known all of it already, but hearing it from him, without all the double-talk and embellishments in the files...J was surprised not to get more of a reaction from her. Perhaps her own experience in Japan's horrific psychiatric wards had given her the perspective to simply accept his explanation of the emotionless creature he had become, without prodding for the hero or traitor that the press and corps had so desperately wanted. The fact was that J Eiji had come to the realization that going out fighting was preferable to what was in store for him at the same time the guards were at their weakest. He had gotten lucky, and the emotionless state the torture had left him in was ideal for the reckless idiocy of starting a prison break in the middle of a desert. It was the machine that had walked those people out of the desert, and it was the machine that had hung with him, staring out of his eyes until a general had dared to call the man who had bled out before him weak and the people who had stood with him cowards. The pure, blinding rage had been a gift, and he only regretted his dishonorable discharge because it prevented him from flying as easily. 

Renais had cocked her head, staring at him levelly over her wine glass, then asked if the grayness ever caught up to him on the ground. He had blinked, answered that he hadn't seemed to need it since meeting her, Tomoro and Papillion, and lapsed into silence before she pushed him onto other things. But when they finally caught their flight back to Tokyo, Renais gave J the window-seat without even thinking about it and smiled as he spent the flight glued to the glass. He fit in so easily with her own idiosyncrasies; she felt the need to constantly monitor the plane for threats, despite the frankly impressive disguises she had cooked up from nothing more than a few safety pins and highlighter ink hair dye. And his quiet reassurance calmed her when she was forced to hand him over into protective custody, growling all the way despite the fact that Captain Decker was one of the most decorated officers on the force. She couldn't help wanting to protect her own witness!

After that amazing week off, the next few months were not easy on any of them. Renais chaffed against her old vice position, in equal parts bored and worried for her friends in protective custody. Hyuuma had enforced silence on the whole force about the upcoming trial as a way to protect everyone, but that meant no contact between any of the witnesses and officers. Tomoro and the other pilots walked carefully, searching for jobs while trying to avoid any hint of trouble that could alert the Yakuza that there were witnesses that could be intimidated. And J tried not to bounce off of the walls while in the various safe-houses. Idiotic, given his general lethargy of a few months ago, but now his fingers itched to fly while his feet were dogged by the feeling gravity. He missed Tomoro and Papillion, the former's jokes and the later's soft smiles. And, against all logic given the time he'd actually known her, he missed Renais. Somehow she had quelled his yearning for the sky while being locked in a tiny apartment. Lord, he even missed the sex, and he'd never been that interested in that to begin with. He wanted them back, all of them, and each minute away just made the yearning stronger.

In the end, it was lucky that both he and Renais had spilled their histories, because during the trial it was all brought up again as the defense tried to discredit the witnesses. J had to hear the story all over again, and this time with no soft support or unbiased nods. They tore him to pieces on the stand, and threatened everything he cared about off of it. The same happened to Renais, with the added bonus of constant threats to her job that were only worsened when she admitted to sleeping with a witness. ("I was undercover as a call-girl" she handily explained. "What exactly do you think I was doing?" She did not mention the sleeping pills that got her out of actually doing the deed.) In comparison, most of the other pilots got off lightly, though a few dropped out from the threats. J was glad Papillion was never called to the stand. With Kei arrested and her debts wiped clean, she had been able to return to a research university. Having her past aired like dirty laundry might have pulled her right back, but with the support of her new boyfriend and a chance at tenure, she might genuinely have made it out. She certainly would not have handled the threats with the same dark humor as Renais and Tomoro, who kept a collection of the worst ones and would occasionally read them out to huge laughter. But Papillion stayed with them for the whole trial, lending her silent support to her scattered friends.

When the trial was over, it was Papillion who hosted the party, in her tiny new apartment, helped by her shy boyfriend Kosuke. And it was something to celebrate; Interpol had planned their attack well, and with J and Renais's cinching evidence most members of the cabal were behind bars, even after being extradited back to their various home countries. Fewer than expected had managed to get away, and almost every one of the major bosses - including J and Tomoro's old boss Hideki - were permanently incarcerated. Plus, Renais and Hyuuma had both earned promotions, along with more oversea's connections to ease future investigations. Tomoro was happily adding a degree in aeronautical engineering to his already extensive mechanical knowledge, and swore that wherever J decided to go, he'd follow soon enough.

"So, decided on a job yet?" Renais eased her way on to the tiny balcony, knowing instinctively that was where J would end up after a long night. 

"Mmm, not yet. I noticed that you managed to get an offer for my old job back. General Irikowa must have been spitting to think he'd have to take me back."

"So military, then?"

He slipped an arm around her, and caught the warm flush he felt every time they touched, even a year after they first met. She snuggled into him, her own arm going around his waist and eyes going to the same distant skyline his were scanning. Hyuuma would tease her if he ever caught her acting so domestic with anyone but...J was an exception. A wonderful, perfect exception.

"You know me, love. It doesn't really matter. As long as..."

She chuckled and answered easily.

"As long as you're in flight."


End file.
